


15th of May

by vivianmauve



Category: Original Work
Genre: Developing Relationship, Diary/Journal, Drama, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Falling In Love, Family Issues, Feelings Realization, Friends to Lovers, Funny, Gen, Healing, Identity Issues, My First AO3 Post, Original Character(s), Other, Romance, Romantic Comedy, Slice of Life, Travel, i wrote this when I wanted to run away, young adult
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-12 00:09:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28501269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vivianmauve/pseuds/vivianmauve
Summary: What if you left your whole life behind to start a new one? In Bali!This is Vivian Mauve and the owner of this journal.I don't know what I just did, but I'm on a flight to Bali right now. I left my whole life, ran away from it desperately without a plan or any idea of what to do.I write in this journal hoping it will help me find out what am I doing.What will happen to me? Maybe you should read to find out.//this is my first time using Ao3. I hope you can read 15th of May and let me know your thoughts! I will release 5 chapters first. Welcome to my story.
Relationships: Vivian / Chandra, Vivian / Herself





	1. 15th of May, 20XX.

**15th of May, 20XX.**

I definitely freaked out.

That’s for sure the only explanation for what happened. 

I mean, what else could explain this?

As of now, I am writing on this notebook the commissary gave it to me after I asked. I guessed that even if I don’t know what to do, I might need to look at what I did to find out my next steps. And that’s why I am here.

My name is Vivian and I just turned eighteen. 

And as of now, I’m all alone.

Don’t mind me, that isn’t a bad thing at all. I just (kinda) ran away from home. That’s certainly due to the fact I can’t stand being home right now. It’s just too much.

I’ve endured eighteen years of doing everything, complying to everything everyone asked me. I suppressed myself so much, getting lost in the characters. But as of today, I found out my grandfather left me a reasonable sum to spend on my eighteenth birthday. 

And I may have spent it all on a flight to Bali. 

Okay, not everything. I still got a couple of bills in my back for everything that may happen to me in the spam of what, three days? A week at best. 

I just don’t quite know what happens. But you also know what? I’m young. I’ve always acted responsibly, to the way adults wanted me too. I need this first and probably last escape. I’m young, again, and fresh out of high school. 

My life didn’t go as planned and you guess what, after so many years of trying to get all under control and expectations, maybe it’s disraling wasn’t as bad as I first thought. But does it really matter?

I apologize, dear notebook, for going around in circles. 

What I am trying to say is (and let me just state the facts for the sake of myself):

  1. I’m Vivian (not my actual name, but anyway, who cares).
  2. I’m as of today, eighteen years old.
  3. I ran away from my life in Brazil.
  4. I’m currently on a flight to Bali.
  5. I got… (wait let me count) five hundred dollars on my purse.



Oh, and by the way, I only have a five-kilo bag with me. They have my computer, it’s charger, as well my phone charger, a small bag with random medicine I might need (actually what I had), a couple of clothes, a spare shoe, hygiene products, a random book and my documents. 

I may or may not have just shoved the first things I saw after I bought the ticket, and I rushed to the airport. It wasn’t close to home at all, but there was a bus leaving in fifteen minutes (just enough time for me to get dressed and get my bag. 

My parents had gone out. I know I should not have done what I did but it was either right now or never. Before getting on the plane and turning my phone off, I left them an audio message. 

It was something like ‘‘I love you guys. But I just can’t succumb to the pressure any more. I am going to my godmother’s home for a stay. If you call her, I won’t get in touch again. Don’t worry, I am fine. But I can’t take this any more. Again, I’m completely fine. Don’t worry too much about me. I just can’t stay with you longer. I need to leave.’’

I don’t take pride in what I did, running away and only living that message as an explanation (because that’s that) but I am sincerely done with doing and complying to every single one of their choices. 

That’s eighteen years with no rebellion or whatsoever. Better snap like this than to throw myself out of the window. (nervous laughs).

Well, to put it bluntly: I needed to escape. And start over from zero. New life.

I even got a new name! 

Something’s gotta give, right?

Right?

Well, it’s not like a notebook is gonna answer me. 

I’ll try to take some sleep, the flight is thirty-seven hours, more or less, and I still got around… thirty-five?

I also don’t want to waste money on food. So yeah, sleeping sounds like a good idea.


	2. ??th of May, 20XX

**??th of May, 20XX.**

I’m hungry. 

I was surprised by how tired I was - I guess that’s an after effect of taking crazy and rushed decisions out of the blue! But who would have guessed…

Anyway, before I go any further, I decided I should stick to this notebook as my life. I tend to speak (or better, write) in English even though it’s not my mother language. I started it so I could train my skills… then later it became a way to hide who I am and what I thought. But now… I just got used to it. It’s more comfortable.

A friend of mine told me it was like a therapy to me, and you know, it might just be. I didn’t give much thought to it, she tends to always be right so I know best and just trust her.

BUT AGAIN… I woke up because I was hungry. I took a look into the menu… way too expensive. I imagine they could… since there was no competition. And I didn’t think of grabbing food.

How was that possible? Oh, don’t ask me. I always have a piece of food with me… but not this time. Not always, anymore. When I decided to try to sleep again, the commissary came to me and asked if I had chosen something or if I was going with the standard meal. I almost cried inside. Of course, it would have a meal with the ticket. It was a forty-hour flight…

Anyway, I already had my pasta (it was either that or fish and I rather not risk getting stomach sick in an airplane) and right now I am trying to watch a random movie in the plane thing… Okay, maybe not so random: it’s eat, pray and love, but even though it would a significant movie to watch right now, I am just listening to it while writing this. That’s just who I am, and it’s not like I’ve never seen the movie before.

I must still have at least fifteen hours left… I should work details out, right? 

So let’s make a list: what do I have? 

  1. My made-up name: Vivian. I need a surname. Urgently. 



I’ll have to speak English on the Island… I don’t want people finding out I’m Brazilian or Latinx right away. Brazilians don’t have a very safe reputation when it comes to young and alone women. I guess I could be evasive and just say South America, or even just America (it’s not my fault if us citizens are bloody awful at geography)... I don’t know. 

I can make a British accent if needed… but let’s go for the North American one. It will attract less attention, right? It’s more common. But again… my accent might slip away. Rather stick with a slight British accent and work from there. I could just say I was Canadian, they are like the Brazil of North America, with so mixed people and accents.

SO LET’S GO BACK.

  1. My made-up name: Vivian.
  2. My accent: slightly British.
  3. I have five hundred dollars in my backpack. I should put it in my shoe at least half of it. Rather not run the risk of it getting stolen. I’ll just do it when I go to the bathroom. 
  4. I don’t have a surname. Nor a place to sleep.



About the last issue: I just was in such a rush to leave home, I didn’t even think of anything else than getting on the freaking plane. But now here I am and the clock is ticking. I gotta think of what to do… 

I made the math: I’ll arrive in Bali around 11 am, that should give me enough time to find a cheap place, right? Nothing too fancy, just a safe and cheap place. With a decent bathroom. 

But for that, I’ll have to use a name for registration… I am in need of a surname. 

And for that, I would need my phone… erasing WhatsApp and enabling airplane mode will do to keep me away from Brazil. Maybe I should also start a new account on social media. You know, knew life, knew social media accounts. 

My real name stands for star… so maybe I should look with a surname that means that… in another language. 

Well, in Turkish is Yildiz. And I know some words of Turkish… at least the basics.

That’s it, I guess. I have a name now: Vivian Yildiz. 

But I still don’t have a place to sleep… and my phone only has 50% of charge. I have to connect it to the USB charge from the small screen… shit. That would take such a long time. 

Anyway: what I don’t have is…

  1. A place to sleep.
  2. A way to get money.
  3. A plan of what to do with my life.



So far, so great, right?

I guess I would have to figure it out when I get off the plane.

Maybe not doing any plans is a good plan.


	3. 17th of May, 20XX

**17th of May, 20XX.**

I’m writing this while I’m on an uber so things might get a little rough.

I think I said I was going to reach Bali around 11 am… well, the plane did hit soil at that time.

But I just didn’t think I would get caught up in customs. But well, I guess an eighteen-year-old female Brazilian with no bags besides her backpack might be a little suspect. 

The immigration police stopped me and inspected all of my belongings and me. I had never gone through it but having watched a bunch of airport series to know it was a normal procedure and it was fast… but I did lose half an hour. And then I got lost in the airport.

I know, I’m not the luckiest person in the world. I’m still surprised I have gotten so far.

But one thing came out of me being stopped at customs: the guard said if I had a place to be in my stay in Bali… and out of the blue I just said no and straight asked him if he knew where I could get a room for a cheap price in a safe neighborhood, away from the tourist spots.

Well, that was certainly way out of the line for me to ask, but I did it anyway. 

And thankfully, the guard gave me directions to a nice bed and breakfast a bit far off the center, but closer to where the locals visited, some reserved beaches around. I thanked him and after he had checked my luggage - and calling my backpack as luggage is being way too comprehensive, he just decided I was mad and not a mule nor a person in human trafficking and let me go. 

And that brings me to where I am right now. 

In an uber that also spoke English - thank god I chose Bali and not Jakarta, but I guess it must also be common there. I was headed for this place called Paradiso, and it seemed to be a small place, mostly for tourists like me, who rather live the local life than the tourist places. 

I have to go now because according to my uber, we’re getting close. But as soon as I get to my room, I’ll tell you what the b&b like and also if I’ll be able to communicate with someone without having to recur to my translator. And plus: I’ll also update you on the usage of my new name! Or should I say, my normal name! Vivian Yildiz it is. 

Now I really gotta go.


	4. 17th of May, 20XX

**17th of May, 20XX.**

I can’t use Yildiz. 

I’m writing this in a total rush because there’s a Turkish couple in front of me checking in and if I bable Yildiz they will know straight away that I am most definitely NOT Turkish. 

But as usual, something HAD to go wrong when it came to me. So I did prepare a spare surname: Mauve. It was an unusual British word for the color violet, and for the time being, will have to do. 

Did it just screw the whole story I was thinking about on the plane? Yes. But I’ve learned it’s better not to take any risks, especially when I am starting a new life, with my past based on complete lies. 

I know I should stick to the truth as best as possible, but I didn’t. And I don’t plan on telling about me so soon (as if I didn’t plan the same other times) so I would just make as it goes. Wasn’t that what I had been doing so far? Something’s gotta give.


	5. 17th of May, 20XX

**17th of May, 20XX.**

The check-in wasn’t a complete disaster.

But a disaster, nonetheless. 

They didn’t have a spare room. Apparently, they had these Turkish people renting the whole place out for a business retreat and they were completely booked for the rest of the week. 

And I didn’t have any more spare money I wanted to waste on locomotion, and even if I am usually shameless, some ounce of self-respect and shame must still inhabit my body, because I couldn’t bear to ask if they knew any other places around. 

But again - I’m kinda broke. I can just say that buying a place on the other side of the world right on spot wasn’t the cheapest thing. It took almost everything my grandpa had left me, and we were certainly not rich. I had to exchange it for dollars so I could use them in here and that vanished what I had left. 

So I had to deal with my shame and ask - which took me nowhere. They were in a privileged location: no one really had hostels or hotels in that neighborhood and the other ones weren’t either close or good enough to be recommended. 

I smiled and had begun to turn away when I saw a sign that showed a door to what seemed to be a restaurant. I asked the receptionist, who seemed rather young, maybe around sixteen?, and asked what that was. She confirmed it and I went to it… 

But before I go further, just know that:

I was hungry, okay. 

And it smelled so good.

And a disappointed and hungry me don’t really think before acting. 

Having said that, let’s keep this going. 

I went to the door and got past it, entering a nice and cozy tropical-themed restaurant. It had more details, but I’m still hungry so I can’t really give it to you right now, dear notebook. Just deal with it and use your imagination.

Dear God, look at me bossing a notebook around.

Oh, the depths of hunger.

So, I went to this small two-chairs-table close to a door I should have guessed was the kitchen and sat. 

Again, let me remind you in case you’ve already forgotten:

I was dead hungry.

And really mad at myself.

So that made me distracted.

Really, an awful, awful state to be in. 

I sat there for what seemed like an eternity but might have actually just been a couple of minutes (or even more, I don’t know, the place was crowded with people speaking Turkish.) before I got impatient and decided to stand up and look for a waiter - again, the place was really really crowded, people not only seated at the tables but also coming in and out of the restaurant, so that made me confused. And these Turkish people were freaking tall, making it almost impossible to see past them. 

Again, remember: hangry. Distracted. I didn’t see right. 

When I stood up, someone also came from the kitchen. At the same time. 

Okay, maybe I may or may not have stood up a bit later… but what matters is: I didn’t see the person. Nor did it see me. And I certainly didn’t see the steaming food it was carrying on a couple of plates.

Result: now I have a burn on my left arm, a rash on other parts of my body, and a pair of ruined clothing.

One day I will laugh at it, I know… but today it hurts. But I don’t blame the boy who tripped on me and ended up burning my arm with hot food. He has it worse - he broke the four plates he was carrying on his arm and it all made its way to the floor. A huge, steaming mess. Thankfully, my shoes protected me from the burn on my feet. 

I remember I closed my eyes, trying to process what had just happened. The place went silent and I could listen to some people screaming in Bahasa, but I didn’t speak a single thing of the language, so I didn’t have a clue.

When I opened my eyes again, the boy was looking at me like his life was on the line. He asked me something in Bahasa. I supposed it was ‘Are you okay?’, but I didn’t have time to ask him to speak in English. 

‘Cold water. Now.’

I swear I’m usually pretty polite… but it was starting to hurt. Real bad. The boy apparently understood me and took me straight away to the kitchen, opening a faucet and I promptly put my arm underwater…

But it wasn’t cold.

It was hot.

_ Burning _ hot.

I left out a scream and removed my arm, looking at the boy as if he was trying to kill me - and if I had to report him to his boss, I could at least say that if those were his intentions, he was doing so far a pretty good job.

At that moment, dear notebook - I should find a name to you, he looked like someone just told him the king was naked in front of him. He turned the faucet off and opened it again, looking at me.

‘You can use it now’ 

I wasn’t so trusting of him, but it hurt, how it hurt! 

I ended up taking another risk and shoved my arm under the water - Cold! I could almost let out a noise of relief at that time.

It didn’t take much longer for the burning sensation to stop - thankfully, it didn’t have so many and so big of bubbles, but it was hot and red. It was going to hurt later on.

‘I’m sorry’ the boy said again, with a small accent. He looked sincerely sorry and concerned, so I decided to drop the act and just nod. It was his fault as much as it was mine. And I just had body damage - he had money. And one I didn’t want (not could) afford.

‘Do you have a first aid kit?’ I had asked him and that was all. I was still in the kitchen and he left, going probably for the reception. My burned back then looked bad, but when he came back he applied a burn ointment and covered it with a gaze. 

Sadly, the rest of the rashes weren’t so easy. But they didn’t hurt as bad, so I didn’t say anything either. 

When he had finished that, a couple of people got into the kitchen - besides the people who were there but didn’t stop working - and they started talking in Bahasa. Again, I felt lost. 

I asked myself ‘’really, Vivian? of any place, you had to choose one where people aren’t all fluent in a language you are?’’ a dumb move, I know. But that’s not an explanation for right now, believe me. 

When they fell silent, I looked at them and froze. I was looking at the burn and didn’t pay attention. I said I was sorry and asked them to repeat the question again. They asked if I was okay, you know, the simple thing, and I replied to them with yes. They apologized again and I said it was okay. I just hoped the boy wouldn’t suffer from what happened. The older man and woman looked at him as if he was in trouble. I couldn’t say much - I was also in a tight spot and tight on money.

He started to blame it on them being short-staffed and the other ones didn’t deny that. The old man said they should start hiring people soon… and right there, dear notebook is when I saw a change.

And trust me, I know how to recognize an opportunity when it comes my way.

I was in Bali after all, wasn’t I? 

‘If you are in need of a staff… maybe I can be of help’’ I said and the heads all turned at me. ‘I have a certain experience in restaurant service, on cleaning and whatever else you need’ total bullshit. I knew how to wash dishes fast and could clean a plane in a decent way. No more than that. But if you asked me, I could even say I was a manager. It just depends on your free interpretation… ‘And I speak Turkish too. I could be of help with the clients’ I hAD to say that, right? As if I was fluent. 

Of COURSE I had. That’s a classic Vivian.

But you know… when in Rome…

Or when in a tight spot with no roof under your head, no food in your belly, and no money in your pocket… 

I had to work with what I got.

And that was an amazing skill of making stuff up out of the blue.

The people in the room took a small time to consider what I had just said and started speaking again in Bahasa.

A bit disrespectful, you know. But well, what could I say.

After some minutes of talk, the woman looked at me.

‘We can’t pay you full salary right now.’

‘I can do half of it if I have a place to sleep’ - I know. I am too direct. But well, why bother prolonging it? It was the truth. After I had said that, they started going to speak in Bahasa again, and the girl who was at the reception was the one to talk to me, in a perfect North American accent, as before. 

‘You can stay with me. Can you work after getting a change of clothes?’ I nodded and she took me to the second floor I hadn’t realized until then - I was famished. She was quite chatty, telling me they lived in the house on the second floor and managed the b&b and restaurant on the first floor. 

She rapidly took me to her bedroom and left me to change my clothes, showing me the bathroom annexed to it. I had to clean myself a bit - no time for a shower - and I switched to my respectable jeans shorts and a red T-Shirt. Really basic, I know, but at least I wasn’t going to be feeling hot. Sadly, I had only brought another pair of pants, and it was Yoga, not jeans. 

That means I have to shop for clothes now. Yay. I’m not so excited. But I guess that was inevitable.

I gotta go now, or they will think I am dead or stealing them - which wouldn’t be a weird thing to think, since they barely know me. But I shouldn’t feed to their expectations. I’ll be back when I Don't feed up to their expectations, so ill be going right now and I'll be back on my break.


End file.
